A Useful Afterlife
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: A PBS program leads to a strange discussion between Max and Brennan.


Booth unlocked the kitchen door and stepped back to let his wife enter the house as he clicked the keyfob to lock her Prius. Hearing a nondescript orchestral theme emanating from the television, Brennan followed the sound and found Max dozing in Booth's recliner. The credits for a PBS program were scrolling over the screen. Her father stirred and opened his eyes.

"Hmpf, Tempe, you're home, how was the movie?"

Glancing at his wrist watch, he added, "I checked the kiddoes 20 minutes ago; they both were out like lights after we played zoo animals for a while. This time I was the keeper, not the tiger, so my back's not killing me! Haven't heard a peep out of them since I read them that voracious caterpillar book you used to love."

"Dad, why don't you take the guest room for the rest of the night?" Brennan suggested.

"Not a bad call, Max," Booth told his father-in- law. "I'll be up early to take Christine and Hank to church in the morning, but Bones doesn't have to go anywhere on Sunday morning; so you guys would have a chance to catch up. We haven't seen you since you returned from North Carolina last week. How's Haley doing?"

"Her lungs are more congested; the docs are trying a new nebulizer medicine regimen to see if it helps. Poor kid doesn't complain but she puts up with a lot." Max scrubbed his face with one hand and stretched. "If you guys don't mind, I'll take you up on that offer. See you in the morning, Honey," he yawned, kissing Brennan's forehead.

ooooooooooo

The next morning Max ambled into the sunny kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Tempe. Booth and the kids get off to church on time?"

"Yes, Dad, they were up and dressed before I awoke. Brought me fruit and toast with juice and coffee in bed before they left," Brennan told her father proudly. "Booth is a wonderful father."

"Yeah, you've got a keeper there, Honey; I sure wish your mom could be here to see you now."

Brennan halved a veggie omelette with her spatula, scooped each section out of the skillet, onto a plate, and carried them to the kitchen table. She poured two glasses of orange juice, refilled both coffee cups and sat down across from Max. "Eat up, Dad, there's mozzarella, fresh scallions and mushrooms in there!"

Max enhaled several mouthfuls, chewed thoughtfully, sighed with satisfaction as he swallowed, and grinned at his daughter. "Oh, man, this is good, Honey; you're an excellent cook!"

"I think you're just really hungry, but thanks, Dad," Brennan smiled back.

"Tempe, where was that body farm you and Booth had to visit when all those feet washed up between us and Canada?"

"The University of Hogansburg in New York, Dad. What brought that up? What made you think of that case of ours on a quiet Sunday morning?"

Max put his fork down, looked his daughter in the eye, and declared, "I'm considering donating my body to Western Carolina University in Cullowhee or Southern Illinois University in Carbondale for decomposition research. I had thought of becoming a medical school cadaver at Northwestern, since you went there, or an organ donor, but I've had a pretty rough life, and I might not be a desirable specimen for medical students' dissection or helping someone out with my kidneys and corneas."

"Dad, that's admirable, but what made you suddenly consider such alternatives? Are you ill? Has your doctor diagnosed an illness?"

"Nope, Honey, I'm fine. Healthy as a horse for my age, Doc Henderson said at my last physical. But I'm not getting any younger, and I don't want you and Russ footing some huge bill for my funeral. I'd also like to be of some use after I've gone, to make up for some of the mischief I've caused in the past."

Brennan smirked at her father. "Mischief? That's what you call Mom and you being bank robbers in hiding with false identities?"

Max gave her a wry half-smile. "Honey, I never denied I've made mistakes; done bad things. This might be a way to give back. You've dedicated your life to restoring people to their families, figuring out who those anonymous bones in your lab belong to, giving them back their names, just like you did for your mom. I'd like to make a contribution to your efforts."

"Yeah, Dad but why bring this up now?"

"Tempe, this isn't exactly something I can discuss with you in front of Christine and Hank, and Booth wouldn't relish the conversation any more than Russ or Amy. They'd be gagging by now."

Brennan was silent; she just stared at her father in amazement.

"I know this seems like an odd topic, but I don't want you or Russ having to make hard decisions about 'final arrangements' when I'm gone. It occurred to me that I could do some good even when I'm dead. You're the only relative I have who would really understand this for what it kinda is; a continuation of my 'second' career as a science teacher."

"That show I was watching on PBS last night before I dozed off was about the University of Tennessee Anthropological Research Facility in Knoxville. I hadn't actually considered a body farm as a possible resting place, but it fits with how we had to bury your mom after she died from McVicar's assault, and augments your work in forensic anthropology."

"Western Carolina is the closest to where Russ lives and you visit. Southern Illinois is closest to Ohio where you kids grew up, so they seemed like the logical choices. Unlike medical school cadavers, the remains aren't returned to the donors' families, since their bones are retained for study and research. But at least you'd know I was close by, and with your connections, I bet they'd let you look at my bones once in a while. Maybe they'd even be pertinent to a case of yours and Booth's."

"Say something, Tempe. What do you think? Your old man's crazy?"

Brennan wiped a tear that was making its way down her cheek. "I don't what to think about when you're gone, even though it's inevitable. It's an admirable idea, but I've gotten used to Booth's belief that visiting the cemetery and talking to Mom is somehow comforting, and I'll probably need a place to visit you, too. Ironic, huh? He really has changed me."

"Maybe we should make arrangements for all three scenarios, organ donation, medical school study, and forensic research, and see what happens to your health in the future. I believe I could be objective enough to determine which avenue for donation would be most suitable when the time comes—"

She choked back tears and buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. We can talk about this more in the future." Max rose from his chair, stepped around the table and enveloped his daughter in a hug.

"I know you'll die someday, but it better not be for a very long time!" Brennan muttered, her voice muffled against her father's chest.

Max pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here, dry your eyes before Booth gets home with the kids and gives me what for over making your cry. He has a mean left hook."

"So do you, Dad. You've demonstrated that to Booth on more than one occasion."

Brennan sat upright and smiled through her tears. "Given the inevitability of post-mortem decomposition, investigating how your remains could be useful as a future body donation is a worthwhile endeavor," she told Max. "But I agree, it's not something to mention to Booth or Russ just yet."

Oooooooooooooo

A key turned in the lock, and two excited kids burst through the front door.

"Mommy, we brought you organic applesauce donut holes!" Christine declared, as she and Hank thrust two wrinkled paper sacks into Brennan's hands.

"Booth, organic applesauce does not make donuts a healthy breakfast option," Brennan began.

"But, Bones, this applesauce came from that artisan shop "Them Apples" in Georgetown. A new owner bought Jessica Pearson's recipe from Brooke Guminksy, and is making it again. The baker next door uses her applesauce to bake these tasty little beauties."

"You know, like Bill Cosby in the skit where his drowsy wife tells him to make breakfast for the kids so she can sleep in and he sees the chocolate cake on the kitchen counter? 'Cake—contains milk, eggs, flour—breakfast! Cake for breakfast; my children love me!' "

"Booth, you're impossible! But they _are_ delicious! Here, Dad, try one!"


End file.
